


Blood on our Lips

by Cupcakemolotov



Series: Dance with the Devil [23]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-22 05:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12474172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/pseuds/Cupcakemolotov
Summary: Recently murdered, Caroline finds her heritage has created something new. Klaus Mikaelson has seen her like before, but never in quite so fascinating a package.





	Blood on our Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Klaroline AU Week Prompt: A klarolineauweek wouldn’t be the same without this one! For works based on mythology and creatures from folklore and legends.

The first time she’d met Klaus Mikaelson, she’d been newly dead. Or undead. Hours old, trying to learn what nightmare now lived beneath skin that looked like hers, but felt wrong. A butterfly emerging from her chrysalis too quickly, unsure how to fly.

She’d been sitting in a booth, staring at her plate of soggy pancakes, her appetite ruined when he’d slid across from her wearing dimples.

There’d been blood on his lips.

“Aren’t you a pretty little monster,” he’d drawled, accent crisp and foreign to ears that did not hear the same as they once had. “But not a vampire.”

Caroline had frowned at him, trying to understand what her instincts were saying. There was power here, but her head felt fuzzy and weird, and her throat hurt. But he buzzed beneath her skin, and the fear that should have left her scrambling away from him didn’t come.

The almost sympathy in his eyes wasn’t false, she decided, but it wasn’t fully truthful either. Taking a quick swallow of the coffee she’d ordered in the hopes of warming her bones, she tipped her head to the side and studied him just as blatantly as he’d watched her. Dangerous, probably awful, but not directly for her. Then the buzzing melted away and she felt exhausted.

“Are you a vampire?” Her voice was ragged, the damage from the witch who’d tried to strangle her a second time still healing. It’d hadn’t been until she’d screamed that she’d truly understood why he’d been so frantic. He hadn’t died; Caroline thought he’d wish he had.

“I’m Klaus,” he said easily, swiping a piece of bacon thoughtfully as he studied her. Something hard was glinting in his gaze, the remains of a violent temper. “What is your name, sweetheart?”

The endearment was reflex, she decided. An easy charm that could be as deadly as it was heady. Strangely, sitting across from a monster was doing more to settle her inside her skin than the coffee. But If he could charm so easily, it was likely he could lie too. And liars were also adept at spotting lies.

“Caroline,” she said finally. Leaning a bit forward, she studied those blood flecked lips. “Did you eat someone?”

Those pretty lips curled, and something quicksilver and thoughtful moved across his face. “Would it bother you if I had?”

Caroline considered that, tried to get a feel for the morals and rules that she’d died with. Human morals and rules. Did she count as human anymore? Did the witches who’d killed her? Pursing her lips, she wondered if she’d somehow ended up in the supernatural version of National Geographic, and who was the apex predator.

“No,” she said finally, honestly. “People gotta eat.”

Klaus laughed, sudden and deep, eyes crinkling at the corners as if she’d startled him. It was a good look. Caroline wondered if it was an honest one. “So they do. But these particular deaths were more for enjoyment than sustenance, Caroline. I don’t tolerate betrayal.”

She paused, instinct prickling down her spine. “The witches.”

Dimples bracketed a smile that raised the small hairs at the back of her neck, the indulgent, amused man disappeared under a wash of horror. But fear didn’t cripple her, and she didn’t run. He looked a touch surprised, as if her blatant disregard for his monster was unexpected.

“The witches, I don’t tolerate betrayal. They’d promised me a different sort of weapon.”

She watched him with unblinking eyes. “And so now you’ll kill me?”

“I’d considered it,” Klaus mused. “I don’t have much use for your kind, and there are things in this world that might attempt to use you against me. Not that they’d have much luck, but I do hate to be inconvenienced.”

She was so tempted to ask what she was that her creation was an affront, but hesitated. Instead she shrugged. “Yeah, sounds like you’d be the one suffering.”

A boyish curve of his lips. “Why pancakes?”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“I think,” he said, eyes bright with sudden amusement, “I’ll can be indulgent today. I look forward to seeing what you’ll grow into, Caroline.”

He’d disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived. It’d be years before she understood who’d sat across from her at that table. That he’d slaughtered the coven she’d escaped and tracked her with the same intent. She’d learned that his version of mercy was mercurial and rare, that the monster who’d smiled at her with teeth was the truth at the heart of him.

It’d should’ve intrigued her less.

The second time she’d met him had been at a funeral. Not any one she’d known, as she stood at the back of a crowd. But a place she’d been drawn too. The sudden heat at her spine, the brush of lips against the edge of her ear should’ve startled her, but she’d felt him a hair before he touched her. Her monster remembered him.

“Is it death that draws you, sweetheart, or their mourning cries?”

She nearly shuddered, as his head dipped lower, mouth running across the slope of her shoulder, as if he could taste the magic drawn to the surface. It was raining lightly, and he was the warmest creature she’d ever felt. For a moment, she wondered how’d he feel naked against her skin, and awareness flushed through her in a different kind of heat.

“Both, I think,” Caroline murmured, voice husky. Her lips curved at the smallest catch in his breath. “You turn up in odd places, Klaus Mikaelson.”

He chuckled against her shoulder, chin resting lightly against her. It was an oddly intimate moment, his violent teeth so close to her pulse. “Do I?”

Deliberately she settled against him, lips lifting into a slightly higher smile at feel of him against her ass. Something about this unexpected teasing left her wanted to press fingertips against skin, to skin into the feel and scent of him. It left her a touch wary, this unexpected desire that gripped her hard.

She cleared her throat, forced herself to ignore the low thrum in her blood. “Hmmm, yes.”

He chuckled against her before he stepped away. She felt cold on the inside, and she turned to face him, uncaring of the whispers around her. Klaus wasn’t watching her face, his eyes lingering on the shine of her hair. She didn’t protest as his fingers lifted a loose curl, eyes thoughtful as he smoothed it against his thumb.

“A side effect,” Caroline said without prompting. “I could make a killing as a shampoo model.”

He was silent for a moment, but when his gaze met hers, playfulness was gone. She recognized the glimmer in his eyes, and she wondered for the first time if she wasn’t the only one unnerved by the pull between them.

“Are you not afraid of me, Caroline Forbes?”

“I’ve already died once,” she pointed out. “It hasn’t turned out so badly.”

A narrowing of his eyes, that calculating mind shifting without movement in the depths of him. It was fascinating, almost watching the way he weighed her words against his own instincts. As if the decision to kill her was one he made anew each conversation.

It really should have frightened her.

Instead, it left intrigued.

Caroline learned that she didn’t see the world the same anymore, that she could see the shadows that death cast on humanity. Vampires walked in that shadow, muted and dull against her senses. Witches carried it in the glimmers of their shadows, between the crevices of their fingers

Banshees, it turned out, had a fascinating relationship with death. Not quite couriers, but a messenger or sorts. A cryer who could ring out the potential of a death or whose whispers could bring you to that cold shadows attention.

But Klaus? The shadow of death only enhanced him, as if something burned too hotly in his blood to be contained. There was no potential for her cries to enhance, no death for her scream to pull violently to the surface.

Her voice couldn’t touch him.

“Curious,” he murmured, the danger of the moment passing. “I would hate to prove you wrong.”

She pushed his hand away, tucking her hair away from his greedy fingers, if not his eyes. “Did you merely stop by to assuage your curiosity or did you need something in particular?”

A flicker of something violent she couldn’t read. “What would you do if I did?”

Caroline arched a brow. “That would depend on what you offered.”

A cool glance, Klaus’ gaze intractable. “You imagine I bargain?”

She reached over and straightened the tangled chains at his neck, her smile as cool as his words. “You will with me. As you once said, you asked for a different sort of weapon. If you’ve changed your mind, it’s me who you’ll bargain with.”

Klaus caught her hand, brought her fingertips to his lips where he nipped sharply. A sudden glint of possessiveness, something wild signing up through his blood.“I will destroy you if necessary.”

“Then don’t make it necessary.”

Eyes she couldn’t read shimmered right before he sucked on the pads of her fingers, tongue a hot stroke of velvet. Her thighs pressed together, arousal warm low in her belly. He stepped away then, hands slipping into his pockets.

“Do watch your tongue, Caroline. I’d be most displeased if someone else took offense and removed your head.”

After that, Caroline rarely went a full year with bumping into him. A coffee here, a meal there. Always, always that watchful intensity, as if something about her puzzled him. He still flirted with her, still seemed determined to dig beneath her skin to peel away her secrets, occasionally showing glimmers of a bone deep possessiveness that left her shaky. But on some level, she seemed to leave him slightly off kilter, a threat caught on the tip of his tongue.

It came to boiling point in Mystic Falls.

She’d woken the morning after the ritual well before dawn, the lingering death itching through her blood. They’d completed the Sun and Moon curse, and that wild potential of Klaus’ blood had been let loose. In the end, they hadn’t needed her screams to strengthen to spell.

Unable to sleep, skin aching and cold, she’d left the safety of the home she’d commandeered and headed back to the ritual sight. Irritable and annoyed at herself, she’d paced around, unable to define why her she felt so stir crazy. Huffing out a breath, she studied the area. Someone had removed the bodies, but the burn patterns remained in the grass. The area smelled of death magic and wolf, and she turned her head to study Klaus as he prowled out of the woods.

“You should be off chasing deer,” Caroline told him tartly. “I imagine if you try hard enough, you could even find Greta if you wanted to take a bite out of someone.”

The past three days had been unexpectedly trying as she’d watched him flirt with the witch, their body language speaking of an intimate familiarity that left her temper close to the surface. More than once she’d been tempted to damage the witch, just a hair, but had squashed the urge partly because Klaus still needed her.

Mostly though she wouldn’t give that knowing, l look of his the satisfaction. She hadn’t taken the human or two home with her so he could smell them on her skin, but she had privately enjoyed that annoyance on his face the next morning. Not that the sex had been that great, muffling herself was always difficult, but it’d gotten the job done.

That Klaus had the audacity to bare his teeth and growl at her words, only annoyed her more. As if he had a right to be snarly when he was very clearly working out his irritation by getting naked with Greta nightly. She shouldn’t even be annoyed with him, but she was and it made her cranky.

Baring her teeth in return, she spun on one heel and stalked towards the circle that had held the doppelgänger. The lingering atmosphere here should have soothed her, but it just reminded her that he’d fucked the witch who’d as the smell. Wishing she had the luxury to scream, she curled her hands into tight fists, fuming.

A moment later the sounds of bones snapping reached her ears and she rolled her eyes, heading deeper into the woods. A millennium spent trying to unlock his wolf and he changed back because he couldn’t argue efficiently. No reason to make it easy on him.

She didn’t expect him to just appear in front of her, naked and so bright in the sun she needed to blink. The wolf was clear in his eyes, gaze nearly a brand against her skin as his lips peeled away from his teeth.

“I thought I’d warned you to stay away.”

Caroline skimmed the naked length of him with her eyes, attempting to remain indifferent and failing. Everything inside her erupted in a greedy demand. “Do you get off on pain then?”

Klaus seemed unbothered by her question, not even slightly embarrassed by the erection he was sporting. “I smelled you. You’re lucky I didn’t decide to take a taste.”

Something about his tone, the wildness in his eyes burned through her. Annoyance quickly followed. days of watching him flirt with everything but he had scraped her nerves raw, until the urge to bloody him with her teeth, her nails was a demanding as her arousal.

“Oh look, but you didn’t bite me. I’m not a vampire, remember?” She tossed her hair, angled her chin. “Looks like I didn’t have anything to worry about after all. Greta is that way.”

The temper that flared in his eyes was startling and the death cries that lived her bones vibrated, as if called by the wolf. For a moment, they just stared at each other, a wire pulled taut. Then his lips curved into something bladed and he prowled closer, whatever barrier he’d kept between them long gone.

Heart hammering in her hears, her stomach jumped as he pressed close, nose brushing against her jaw and then down the length of her throat. His lips hovered against her shoulder, so his response brushed tantalizingly against her skin. “No?”

The sudden press of his teeth against her shoulder lit up her nerves, and she silently shuddered. He rumbled against her, and her hand caught his hip, nails digging into skin as he dragged his tongue against the erratic pulse point in her neck.

“So grumpy, sweetheart,” he all but purred, one hand cupping her ass while the other swept into her hair, tangling tightly. His teeth scraped against her skin, and her eyes squeezed shut. “I could smell your jealousy.”

Caroline dragged her nails down sharply and this time his bite stung. She jerked and he tightened his grip on her hair, and she nearly moaned at that little tug. “It’s not like you were hiding the good sex vibes.”

They went to the floor in a tumble, his hand protecting her skull. The heat of him between her thighs was distracting, but he lowered his head until his nose brushed hers, breath hot against her lips. “And why should I have?”

He toes curled as she struggled to keep from moving against him, her clit aching for any kind of friction. Chin lifting, she met his challenging gaze, the feel of his blood beneath her nails heady. “Did I say anything?”

He chuckled and licked the corner of her lips, bit at her chin. “You’re eyes said plenty. All angry and annoyed, anytime I touched Greta. As if when I fucked her, I wasn’t thinking of you with your pretty skin and lovely scent. I’ve wondered how you’ll taste, and how it’d take to break your exquisite control with my tongue. I should have killed you in that booth, Caroline, or any number of times since you’ve watched me with a claim in your eyes.”

His fingers skimmed up her shirt to slide beneath her bra and to pluck teasingly at her nipple. Her hips rolled then, and she fervently wished she’d worn a skirt. It was a struggle to process his words, to think through what he was telling her.

“You still fucked her,” she rasped out, annoyance she couldn’t stop clear in her tone. Whatever had hovered between them for years was breaking free and she wanted to mark him. Dig into his bones and scar him. “Even if you were thinking of me.”

He made a low sound as he traced her collarbones, one finger braking the front clasp on her bra. He cupped her breast fully, fingers teasing as he left marks across the hollow of her throat. “Such a possessive thing you are. But so am I.”

Caroline opened eyes that had fallen shut, freezing at the golden greed that stared back. “Are you?”

His fingers dropped to her zipper, and a moment later her jeans were being tugged down her thighs. He didn’t bother removing them entirely, sliding his fingers inside her panties to you with her clit before sliding lower. She clenched down around the first teasing thrust, chest heaving as he memorized her expression, cataloging each twitch and moan with greedy eyes.

“There was always a chance that I was wrong, that my wolf would let me kill you once it was free,” Klaus said easily, as if he wasn’t buried knuckle deep inside her. “If I avoided feeding it what it wanted from you, it wouldn’t fixate on your scent, your taste, your smiles.”

She gripped his shoulder in an attempt to anchor herself, mind going slightly hazy with pleasure. “Did it work?”

“No,” he rumbled, eyes blazing. “All it did was starve my wolf until I want to gorge.”

Bending down, he sucked one hard nipple through her shirt, teeth a harsh scrap even though cloth, and she moaned. Another rough pull of his mouth and then he flipped her over. She gasped, following the demand his hands made and pushed up onto her hands. With her jeans still tangled around her knees he pushed aside her underwear, the angle of his cock as he entered her left her almost unbearable full. She panted heavily as he settled against her spine.

“Tell me, Caroline. Did you think of me when those other men barely left you satisfied?”

“Yes,” she ground out, eyes squeezed tightly shut as the feel of him buried inside her. “I wanted to rip Greta’s face off.”

He chuckled and fisted his hand between her breasts and tore her shirt free, leaving only her unhooked bra hanging. The heat of him burned her skin as wonderfully as she’d imagined, and he played with her nipples until she clenched tightly around him, pressing her lips tightly together to stop a gasp.

“Come now love, I want to hear you,” he chided roughly. “You’re voice is lovely, I imagine it’s more so with my cock inside you.”

She shook her head, choking as he slowly pulled back and then glided just as smoothly inside her. “You know what happens if I scream.”

“But you can’t kill me,” Klaus reminded her as he adjusted the angle of his next thrust, one that had a whine escaping her clenched teeth. “And I’ve thought of you this way often, all hot and slick and begging.”

His words were coaxing, but his body demanded. He slowed his thrusts until her head was hanging low, panting out each breath as he teased her with iron control. No matter how she squeezed down, fingers digging uselessly into the dirt, he merely petted her stomach, traced the tenseness of her abs with light fingers.

“Klaus…”

A hot kiss against her shoulder. “You know what I want, love.”

She whined at the next retreat. The unexpected snap of his hips had her crying out, and he circled her clit in reward. “Good girl.”

The teasing turned intent and she cries grew harsh in her throat, until he pinched down on the throbbing huddle of nerves, her scream loud as she collapsed onto her arms. A moment later he followed, teeth buried in her shoulder as he shuddered. She gasped for air as he slipped free if her body, smoothing her sticky panties into place before shredding her jeans and the rest of her bare.

He stepped back for a moment, gaze hot and covetous, and she wondered what it meant. Then he’d lifted her, and she gasped as her stomach met his shoulder. “Klaus!”

He patted her ass, that dark sense of amusement permeating the air. “I’m not finished with you, Caroline, and I believe I require a bed for our next round. My headboard should keep your hands nicely occupied while I stroke you hoarse with my tongue.”

She shivered, and squeezed his as. “Greta is there.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Klaus gripped her thighs, nails digging in lightly. “Surely a witch of her caliber can block a banshee scream, hmm?”


End file.
